Nightmare Realm
by Luciddreamer326
Summary: Brennan is deeply affected by the events of her last case with Booth. Will this alter her working relationship with him or end their partnership?
1. Bad Dreams of Things

Title: Nightmare Realm

Plot: Brennan is deeply affected by the events of her last case with Booth. Will this alter her working relationship with him or end their partnership?

Rating: PG-15..My own rating to keep the kiddies away.

Disclaimer: I own them! I own them runs from the Feds Just playing...

Notes: Yesh, you knew it was coming. Ta-da! Sequel time. I think it would help if you read Goodbye For Now, my previous fic. But I will throw in some background in this story, so you will prolly be okay. Thanks to the people who read my stuff last time. Your comments make it all worthwhile. Te amo!

**Chapter 1 **

**Temperance Brennan Residence**

**3:26 am**

She could see it, the way the street lamps caught the silver of the gun and made it shine in the moonlight. Sounds were hard to make out. Was that Booth screaming? Yes, it had to be. Her own mouth was as dry as cotton, incapable of speaking. Her legs seemed to fail her, even as she desperatly tried to back peddle to the blazer._ No, no this can't be happening_, she thought to herself._Move Brennan, move_! Had the world slowed down? It couldn't have. Everything seemed to distort and not move. Air was trapped in her lungs and she couldn't breathe.

_Damn you Brennan_. No, she had never even heard the round empty out of the chamber. The only thing she could feel was the searing pain in her chest. Her eyes began to blur, but not before running a hand under her breast, holding it out to see crimson wetness. It was hard to stand, the pain growing greater with each second. Strength drained from her and her right knee hit the pavement along with her left hand. The other hand stayed covering the hole. Before long, even kneeling had become a task. She had succumbed to the pain and layed back on thr ground.

She couldn't see Booth anymore. Where was he? Trying to gather herself, she sat up. Rolph walked up, smiling eerily at her. He waved it around, taunting her and laughing. Finally, anger twisted his face and he brought the gun to her head.

"Bye bye Temperance," he spat. His finger squeezed the trigger and the gunshot lit up the sound waves of the air, hitting her ears. Everything went pitch black.

Temperance Brennan jolted up in her bed, gasping for air and clutching at her heart. It felt as if it might jump out of her chest. Sweat beaded her forehead and clung to the strands of brown hair. She had risen at a funny angle, sending a dull pain through her, all the way to her shoulder. Raising up her grey tanktop, she peeled back the bandage over her wound. As she ran her fingers over it, she winced it pain.

It had been two weeks since she had left the hospital. It still hurt to move and she had little energy. Staying at home unnerved her however, and she had assured Goodman that she was well enough to return to her duties. Besides, this was the longest she had ever been home.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she got up and went into the bathroom. Reaching into her sinktop cabinet, she withdrew medical supplies to rebandage the wound. After a few moments, the job was complete and she let her top back down to cover herself. He feet left the cold tile of the bathroom and padded across the carpet from the living room to kitchen.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she turned on the sink and filled it with tap water. The water cooled her burning skin with its touch. A dog barked somewhere off in the distance, and she let her eyes scan the area as she looked outside her kitchen window. The street lights lot most of the surrounding houses, but with the moonlight absent from tonight, Brennan felt a cold chill still run down her spine, along with more uneasiness.

Somewhere, out there in the darkness, he was sitting and thinking of her. Of what he had down to those poor other women and to herself. At least she had been able to narrowly escape death and come out on the better end. That rat bastard. Where the hell was he?

Booth had assured her over and over that he would catch him, not rest an ounce until he was behind bars. That was two weeks ago, and no one had seen any trace of her attempted murderer. Every night since she had come home from the hospital had been a utter nightmare. She kept having dreams of him, smiling and arrogant over what he had done. He managed to find her in her illusions, no matter what. She didn't want to be at home, but there was really no where else to go.

Putting the glass back in the sink, she let her palms rest on the marble finishing around the sink. Leaning over, she looked around the yard once more, then glanced heavenward to search for a moon that she knew wasn't there. But she was also searching for something else. For comfort, for solace, for saftey, for him.

"Where are you Rolph? Where are you hiding," she whispered in the darkness.


	2. Inching Closer

**Chapter 2**

**Medico-Legal Labratory**

**Jeffersonian Institute**

**10:01 am **

Brennan stood clutching her clipboard to her chest, staring past the milky white of the bones on the cold stainless steel of the exam table into the oblivion. Her mind seemed to only stayed focused half of the time now, ever since her incident with Rolph. Every second, she spent wondering where he was and racking her brain as to why Booth couldn't find the guy. It had been three weeks now, no trace of him visible. Anxiety itched inside of her skin, making it hard for her to work, or function in any other aspect of her life.

Suddenly, her revere was shattered with a whistle and a pair of hands waving in front of her blank, blue eyes. The movement jolted her, making her jump a bit. She tried to play it off as she came to look at Seely Booth, but failed miserably. He questioned her with a look from his brown eyes, more thoughtful than smirking at her. Brennan snorted and sat the file down on the table. She rounded the end of the gurney and brought her magnifier back to the section of bone she had originally come over to examine.

"Aren't we a little jumpy today?" Booth asked. _Wrong damn question_, Brennan thought.

"Wouldn't you be too if someone had just got through shooting you?" she spat back to him.

She saw him droop his head, stung by the harshness in her words. A twinge of guilt coarsed through her, but dissapatted quickly. For the most part, Brennan didn't think twice about jumping on Booth, assuming he could handle whatever she threw at him. Tough sniper cops had feelings too though. After all, she owed him a lot. She probably wouldn't even be alive it he hadn't been there with her.

She bent to look in the scope, not wanting to get into any further altercation with him. A warm breeze washed over the exposed skin that her blue lab jacket did not cover on her arms. She stood up from her work, her chest grazing Booth's. Endorphins ran through her body, sending nervousness throughout her. He stared into her eyes, then leaned forward. She could feel his breath on the nape of her neck, and she closed her eyes at the feel of it.

His hands did not touch her nor did any other part of him, but it didn't have to. There was distance between them, but it felt like they were grinding into one another. His breath tickled her ear as he spoke in to it.

"I tried to stop him Temperance," he whispered. He lips grazed her ear and lightly touched the lobe, kissing it. _Or am I imagining_, Brennan thought. The warm gushed away as Booth stepped back. She was unaware her eyes were still closed and she opened them quickly. The guilt was back, and with more force than ever. His eyes looked sad and he slowly walked away from her.

"I will talk to you later," he called out, looking back at her with a small smile. She nodded, half dumbfounded by the imagined kiss, the other half racing though what she had said to him. The doors slid open, and Booth rounded the corner, no longer visable to her. The day had only started and it was already proving to be tough to get through.

**2 hours later**

Somehow, Brennan had managed to tame her thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Originally, she had been extactic when she had heard the Jeffersonian had won the rights to examine a newly discovered Eyptian priestess, according to excavation records and other archealogical papers that had been sent with the woman. Now, it was Brennan and her scientific team that had the honor of figuring out who this woman had been. Judging by the condition of the bones, Brennan projected that this woman appeared to have lived during the time of Akhenaten and Nefertiti, somewhere around the early 1300's BCE. This find in the world of anthropology was stellar.

Brennan instantly became glad that her success and reputation had its benefits. Even though Brennan didn't take much stock in the fact that she was considered a famous author, as well as one of the world's top leading anthropologists, she smiled to herself and felt a sense of accomplishment. _Hard works does pay off_, she thought to herself with a smile.

Zach Addy, Brennan's prodigal lab assistant joined her side, also smiling at the corpse. The two never conversed, except on the work related aspects of thier lives. Brennan found it comforting that despite the age difference, she could converse with someone close to the same mental capacity as herself. Zach never skipped a beat with her and sometimes proved a challenge to her. She found their relationship satisfying on the work level.

"What a great find," Zach said to her. "The bones are in equisite condition, considering their age."

"Indeed," Brennan answered back. The two stood in silence for a moment, only staring at the body. Zach was the first to move, circling the table to stand opposite of Brennan.

"So have we determined a cause of death?" he asked.

"I found no anomolies in the structure of the bones. This woman appears to have died of natural causes."

"Hodgins ran some tests on the samples of fiber we collected from the sternum area. He concluded that the strands were that of Egyptian silk. Whoever this woman was, she was very well cared for and given the finest the age had to offer."

"Great work you two. I will give a look at the dentals, since most of the teeth are intact and present. We should have a good idea who we are looking at by the end of the workday, with a little research as well."

"I don't know about you, but our workdays tend to end a little before yours do," Zach said with a smile. Brennan sent him one of her own and pulled her lab coat off.

"I'm headed to lunch. Pack up the rest of the bones, except for the skull. Set up my equipment so I can examine it when I return."

"Sure thing Dr. Brennan," Zach said, moving diligently after her orders.

Her stomach rumbled as she headed out of the office. Booth suddenly shot into her mind. Should she invite him to lunch? A part of her felt like she owed it to him, considering her hateful treatment of him earlier. She didn't feel like dealing with him right now emotionally. Perhaps it was better if she had lunch alone. With a motion, she deposited her cell phone back into her purse. _Another place, another time_, she thought.

-

The streets of Washington were surprisingly calm for it to be the lunch hour. Brennan had oppted for a small cafe and bistro not far from the Jeffersonian. She sipped her diet Coke as she watched the people pass by. A chair scrapped across the tile floor, and Brennan looked over to see Booth taking a seat. Okay, so she hadn't intended on calling him. In fact, her better judgement had told her not to. Instead, she had calmed him up and was surprised when he agreed to meet her.

"I'm sorry about this morning," she apologized, popping a salt and vinigar chip into her mouth.

"Don't worry about it Bones," he said, shrugging it off.

"You want something to eat? I'm buying," she said, playing punching him in the arm.

Booth's expression remained as grim as when he had walked in, as he waved off her offer. Was he still in a crappy mood from this morning? Brennan felt a pang of agitation go through her. She had had enough time to cool off. Surely, he wasn't still holding a grudge against her.

"Look Booth," she began.

"I agreed to come here because I had something I needed to tell you. I didn't want to do it over the phone," he said leaning in to her more. His voice was low, his form guarded.

"What's going on?" Brennan frowned.

"This morning after I left, I got a call from my advisor. A tip came in on the whereabouts of Rolph," he whispered to her.

Her heart did a flip in her chest and then dropped to her stomach. She sat back in her chair and looked at the ground.

"We don't know if it's legit, but we are looking in to it," Booth explained. "I'm about to go and check in to it."

"I want to go with you," Brennan exclaimed, quickly standing and almost knocking over her coke and chair at the same time.

"Slow down Bones," Booth cried standing and putting his hands on her shoulders. She looked at him and steadied her breathing. He sat her back down slowly, but remained standing. Pulling his sunglasses from his pocket, he unfolded the earpieces.

"Sorry, but I am solo on this one," he said to her. "Please, just stay here and go about your work. I will let you know what I come up with."

She conceded to his request in action, but was very much against it on the inside. Perhaps the fear of being shot again overcame her, which is why she gave up so easily. Her eyes followed him as he exited the bistro. Brennan leaned back in her chair and felt her composure shatter. On the verge of tears, she sat numb. She barely noticed when the waitress sat her sandwich down in front of her. The hungry feeling in Brennan's gut was long gone at this point.


	3. Office Fight

**Chapter 3**

It had been three hours since Brennan had last seen Booth. Several times, she had picked up the phone to call him, but passed on the idea. Booth would call if he had found something.

The cursor blinked with the seconds, the page remaining blank. Perhaps her heroine anthropologist should experience something as psychologically toiling as Brennan had. She sighed at the idea. Her books already contained too much information about her life. Hell, they were practically biographical. Rubbing her eyes, Brennan leaned back in her seat. She was tired, sleep having eluded her for many nights.

For today, her work ethic was destroyed. Leaning forward again, she brought up Internet Explorer and navigated to her email inbox. A few junk items, a letter from her publisher pressuring her to pen another novel. And something else? Brennan clicked it, scrolling down to read the text:

My Dearest Temperance,

How, oh how, did I come across this adress you wonder. I am a killer my dear.

The FBI is turning in circles trying to find me. I elude them, so I can do anything.

How is the wound? I heard you survived. I must admit, before you, I had much

more affinity for the dead. You renewed my interest in the living. It's been a long

time; I almost forgot the smell of blood.

Until Next Time,

J.R.

Her heart raced and her breathing shallowed. How had Rolph obtained her email? Scooting away from her desk, she punched the numbers to phone Booth.

**30 minutes later**

Booth stood, pacing by the door, eyes narrowed. A computer specialist and intellegence expect had arrived with him. His brown hair was mussed, kind blue eyes consumed by the sharp black frames. His long, boney fingers pecked away at the keys on Brennan's desktop.

"I may be able to pull up the information regarding the account this email was sent through. As far as tracking the orgin of the email, that will be near impossible," Max Lucas explained.

"Why?" Brennan questioned.

Lucas shot a look to Booth, who ran from his stare and went to looking at the floor. Lucas shifted his eyes back to Brennan, the warmth of them flowing in to her. Unlike Booth, Lucas seemed to have a calming effect on her.

"Tracing this kind of thing is very difficult. If I did try, the chances I would get accurate information would be very low."

"So you aren't willing to try?" Brennan frowned

"I hate to play good cop, bad cop here," he said sheepishly,"But I would hope for some solid evidence. Maybe if Rolph tried to contact you via email, he will try a handwritten letter or moveable type, something that is more solid science as of late than that of email traces."

Maybe there was a reason why he was in a lab, analyzing data. Rolph was good and he wouldn't write a letter to Brennan. It would be too easy to trace. And besides, if he was able to deliver a handwritten message to her, it meant he was close. The thought sent shivers up and down Brennan's spine.

"I don't want to get another letter," Brennan frowned.

"I am sorry Dr. Brennan. I don't know you, but I do not want you to recieve another letter either."

Brennan tried to contain her agitation. Not with Lucas. The guy had tried after all. It bothered her that Rolph was playing head games and she did not know how to respond to it.

"Do what you can Max, then get back to me," Booth said slapping him on the shoulder. Max shot another look to Brennan, as if asking for her approval. All she could do was nod. Max shoved his glasses back onto his nose and then stood, grabbing his briefcase. He stopped at the door of Brennan's office and gave her a small smile.

"I'll do what I can Dr. Brennan. I promise," he said gently.

"Yeah, you do that," Booth butted in, ushering him out of the door. Max threw a wave back to Brennan and then disappeared. His willingness to help and kindness struck Brennan, and she was touched by his gestures.

"He is a nice guy, Max is," she told Booth, sitting down again at her desk.

"Yeah, well he isn't the only one trying to help you out and keep you alive," Booth scoffed as he closed the door to her office.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Brennan grumbled, sorting through autopsy files.

"I bust my ass every day trying to do my job and keep you safe. It gets tough you know."

"Your job description doesn't include babysitting me," Brennan spat to him.

"The hell it doesn't. You were standing beside me and got shot. You almost died Temperance and it would have been my fault."

"If this is a conscious thing, don't dwell on it. You don't need to keep me in your sight to make you feel all good about yourself." Her words were becoming more intense and hateful. She felt a twinge of guilt, but she had never asked Booth to save her.

"You know what, fine. If you don't need me, then I don't need you," he blurted out.

"Oh, so you are just going to solve these murders on your own? Have at it then."

"You know, I managed to function witthout you for several years as an FBI agent. Bad guys still got caught," he said matter of factly.His eyes showed his quiet rage and frustration with her. She knew he had every right to be pissed at her. Her behavior was less than warm at the moment.

"Then why are you still standing here Booth? Maybe you should place a call to have the body of your murder victim in there transfered the the FBI forensics team. They might cherish the work, since everyone seems to bring their problems to me."

"I thought we were in this together. You implicate the bad guy, I arrest them. That was the deal."

Brennan said nothing, only offering him a grunt. Booth paced back and forth angrily. She couldn't remember at what point she had stopped looking at the the files she had been sorting through. They now sat scattered around her desk. Booth gritted his teeth and shook his fists at her. He let out an angry growl and shoved his hands back into his pockets.

"Good luck catching Rolph then. Don't coming whining to me when he is on your doorstep," he blurted out.

The words hit Brennan right in the heart and slashed at her emotional state. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes the longer she had to process his comment. She fought not to let them fall, but before she knew it, one trickled down her cheek. It was becoming increasingly hard to see as the tears kept coming. Booth tried quickly to cover his actions.

"Hey, I didn't mean..."

"I think it is time for you to leave now," she said bringing her tear filled eyes to meet him. He started to protest, but she shook her head. His jaw clenched and she watched as he opened the door and slammed it behind him. A picture frame on her desk fell from the rattle and she collapsed back into her seat, sobbing for what had just happened between them. How would she ever fix this?


	4. Going Down

Note: Sorry it has taken me so long to get another chapter pumped out on this one. I am still sort of stuck in a writer's block, so I hope this chapter doesn't suck. I have already started writing the next chapter, so look for it to be up by tonight.

**Chapter 4**

Today was the first day she had ever left work before she was supposed to. Goodman sent her off after she snapped at Zach about being too slow on cleaning the bones of a new victim they had received. Strike three of the day she guessed.

The first had been the fight with Booth, number two coming when she shunned a tour group Goodman had told her to pay special attention to. 'Exposure' he kept saying. Babysitting had not been a box to check when she had applied for the job. Only the 'babies' she was supposed to show around had been the head of funds appropriations for the Institute.

Now, she lay looking at the ceiling, watching the beige fan turn around time after time. Shattering her thoughts, the phone vibrated on her nightstand. Sliding across the comforter of her bed, she grabbed it.

"Brennan."

"Bones, I need you to come down to the Bureau."

"Why?"

"We've got him."

Her heart had sunk so deep into her chest, she wasn't even sure it was beating anymore. Breath became stuck in her lungs and she sighed, not sure of whether it was from relief or something else. Running to the kitchen counter, she picked up her purse and keys and sprinted out the door.

**FBI Headquarters**

The light filtered in through the slender cracks in the blinds over the window, casting a soft light on Booth and the man sitting across from him. Booth sat upright, stiff and unmoving. Every so often, he felt his jaw clench and heart tense, knowing Brennan was probably barreling through the security checkpoints of the building.

Rolph sat with a smile twisted on his thin lips, brown hair mussed over his balding area. His eyes were cold, the brown showing no sign of emotion. He had put up a fight when they had raided his hideout. An officer had been wounded and the team had found more evidence of Rolph confiscating remains from graves.

Booth twirled a pen around on the table, never taking his eyes off of Rolph. Rolph offered a smug smile, sending Booth's nerves on edge. He slammed his hand down on the pen, stopping its rotation.

"Why so smug Rolph? It's not like you are ever going to walk out of here again," Booth grumbled and stood. He placed his hands on his hips, pacing back and forth.

"So what? You caught me," Rolph said leaning back in his chair. Bringing his hands together, he clapped slowly several times. "Good job G-man. How long did it take? You FBI guys must have a record at solving crimes."

Booth walked to the interrogation table and placed his palms on the cool metal. He knew what Rolph was trying to do. If Booth smashed his head into the concrete wall like he wanted to, Rolph got to cry assault and his sentence would be reduced. Lawyers and their loopholes. It was Booth's turn to smile.

"You shot my partner. My unarmed partner!" He started to yell. "I should smash your skull into that wall there and put a bullet straight through to your heart. Where I'd like to send you, you'd never see the light of day again and wouldn't be wasting the take payer's dollars with your filth."

Booth ran a hand through his hair and looked back over at Rolph. "But since I signed an oath to uphold the laws and rules of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, you get to live," Booth said. "Until I get to personally watch them stick a needle in your arm and send you out of this world, sadly in a more humane way than your victims."

"So, you think this all ends with me? There will be another girl, another victim, another grave robbing. You think you have found solace in the fact that your pretty little forensic anthropologist will be able to walk in here today? She may not die by my hand, but rest assured Agent Booth, she will die. Someday, somewhere. That is her curse because she seems persistent on following you around."

Booth clenched his hand into a fist, feeling anger rush through his veins. A moment later, a soft touch grazed his shoulder, and then tightened on his arm. He hadn't heard her enter, but the smell of her perfume wafted into his nose and sent him into an immediate calm. Turning around, his eyes met the blue of hers. She spoke volumes with her looks, but she did not know it.

Rolph smiled again and tossed Brennan a little wave. She pulled out the chair at the table and sat down, folding her arms across her chest.

"How's the wound my dear? Healing well I hope."

"How's life in jail treating you? Anybody's bitch yet?"

Rolph eyes boiled with anger and his smile faded. Whatever he had sitting on his tongue to say to her slid down his throat and vanished.

"Oh, right. You haven't been here long enough. Give it a little time."

"It's such a shame I didn't kill you. Most people die from a wound like I gave you. If things were my way, I'd be out of here and you would be in a coffin."

"What? You out roaming a dark graveyard, snatching more bones? Gathering remnants of things that never belonged to you? Sending emails to people's accounts, trying to scare them into making a wrong move, so you can take advantage of their slip-up? All that 'careful' work you put in didn't come get your desired effect. You shot me. But I'm still alive. And I have nothing more to say to you."

Brennan stood and threw a look over to Booth who stood in silence near the window. He said nothing as he watched her bang on the door, which buzzed her passage after a few moments. It closed slowly behind her, leaving Booth and Rolph alone. Walking over to Rolph, Booth snatched him up, jerking hard on his arms in the cuffs.

"Time to go back to jail Rolph," Booth said with a smile. It was time to end it all.


	5. Saying Thanks

Note: Holy crap! Two chapters in a day? Yesh, I owe this story that. Also, sorry for the grammar mistakes last round! I am so embarrassed. hides face That is why I hate having an old computer without spell check. Stupid wordpad. Thanks so much to you all for bearing with me.

**Chapter 5**

**7:45 pm**

Brennan's knees felt as if they were about to buckle from anxiety. She hadn't seen Booth since Rolph had been toted off to jail. As she had put her jeep into park, the nervous feeling she had became overwhelming. She had never been good at apologizing to someone or saying thank you. How do you express gratitude for having someone save your life?

A tiny glow illuminated from Booth's home, casting a soft light on the hedges in the yard. Brennan's boots hit the concrete walkway with a thud. Stepping up onto the porch, she brought a hand up to knock.

"I can't do this," she muttered to herself, angry for even thinking about bombarding Booth at home. Last time she had done so, a half naked woman had strolled out of his kitchen. Her hand accidentally slammed against the wood as she brought it down to her side. Her breath became shallow and her eyes grew wide.

"Shit," she breathed.

The door swung open, revealing her partner Seeley Booth. He wore a casual pair of jeans and a plain, gray t-shirt that fit snug over his toned chest. His toes poked out from the pant cuffs of his jeans, feet even a perfectly tanned color. _He looks good_, Brennan thought to herself. _Damn good_. Fumbling to gather her composure, she quietly yelled at herself. _Focus Brennan!_

"Hey Bones. How goes it?" he questioned.

"I was just in the area, and uh…"

"This is sort of a suburb of D.C. Not too much out here. If you were looking for something, you probably missed it."

_No, I found it_, Brennan mused again.

"Ok, I am a really crappy liar," she confessed. "I need to talk to you."

He gave her a small smile and motioned her in.

"Sorry I didn't call," she offered. "Sort of a spur of the moment thing on my part. Which I am still not entirely good at yet."

"Yeah, way to ruin my party," he laughed, walking deeper into the house. _Too follow or not to follow_, Brennan thought. There seemed to be no nude women around, so she took a few more steps toward him. She took a seat on his couch as he continued on into the kitchen.

"You want something to drink?" he called out.

_Yeah, if it doesn't come from the refrigerator_, she said silently.

"Whatever you are having," came out instead.

He came back, handing her a Shiner Bock after twisting off the top for her. Another was cupped in his left hand. He hit her bottle lightly with his own and took a sip.

"To catching the bad guy once again. Booth and Brennan to the rescue!" he laughed.

"So now we are a super-hero duo or something?"

"We are kind of super together, don't ya think?"

"Guess all we need now are matching suits."

"Yeah, something nice and tight for you..." he trailed off. She questioned him with a look and he laughed, bringing a hand to his chest.

"Kidding there Bones."

Brennan sat forward, arms resting on her legs, holding the drink between them.

"I wanted to say thank you for everything since this whole thing started. I know I have been difficult to deal with and you put up with that," she told him.

"Like I always say, you'd do it for me."

Brennan brought her eyes up to meet his. He looked mysterious, yet enchanting in the faint light that was behind him.

"Yeah, I would," she whispered. Something in her seemed to misfire as she gazed at the close proximity of Booth near her. Sitting the bottle on the table, she turned to him. He threw her a small smile which faded as he saw her move to him. His eyes followed her as she leaned in, never leaving her mouth even as it touched his own.

For a moment, she was afraid to move or do anything. _Oh my God, I am kissing Booth_, she thought. _What did I do_?

Even though they were only grazing one another with their lips, the soft symbiosis melted Brennan into a puddle.

It felt odd to have strong feelings like this for someone. Had she felt this for Peter? It was good in the beginning but hell in the end. Michael? Definitely no. Always casual sex, very nice. He was only and always filler for a temporary sadness that entered her from time to time.

Moving her hands off of his chest, she slowly backed away. His eyes were clouded, losing the readability that normally existed in them. Brennan brought her eyes to her feet, embarrassed.

"I shouldn't have. I just…didn't know how to say thanks," she stammered. "Guess that wasn't the best way. Nothing else came to mind and I needed to…"

"Temperance, you are overanalyzing again," he cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It means only what you want it to."

The heat returned to her and flooded other places. Suddenly, she saw a twinkle in his eyes and her brain misfired again. She threw her arms around him, sending them back onto the couch. Her hands began to roam over his chest and down to his hip bones. _The iliac bone_, Brennan thought idly. _This isn't science class Brennan! You just jumped someone!_

Her legs rested at his sides, her lips moving in a gentle rhythm with his. They met one another's motions with fluidity. Moving her hands from his shoulders, she ran her fingers down the soft skin of his muscled arms.

What the hell was she doing? This was her partner that she worked with. Nothing outside of a professional relationship was supposed to exist between them. Maybe it had been the moment, the excitement and energy she had kept pent up ever since she was shot.

She knew though, that that wasn't it. Booth made her feel things she had never felt before. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was taken by him. But maybe he did not reciprocate her feelings. Maybe it wasn't mutual. Pulling away slightly, she stared at him.

"What's wrong?" Booth questioned.

It was coming and she felt it swell and burst on her tongue. The phrase was cliché and she knew it, but the words were out before she could stop herself.

"Maybe…we shouldn't."

-Draws a line that represents rated M. Do I cross it? Review por favor and make me a happy little person. All 5'10 of me. I want to give you guys what you want. Call me a people pleaser


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